By JOE YOGERST
From Ibiza’s nonstop nightlife to Menorca’s British history, Spain’s Balearic Islands sing surprising siren songs.
They gather in the late afternoon on the rocky ledge in front of Ibiza’s Café del Mar, hordes of travelers who are eager to partake in one of the great rituals of the modern Mediterranean. Bikini-clad backpackers and dressed-to-the-nines jet-setters, honeymooning couples and rambunctious families, nouvelle hippies and old-fashioned romantics who think there’s nothing better than relaxing along the shore with a good book, a glass of sangria, and a sundown that seems to linger forever.
And did I mention music? Because that’s an inseparable part of the vibe in these Spanish islands. Fifty years ago, it was Zorba the Greek dance riffs and Nino Rota’s Italian movie tunes that you couldn’t get out of your head long after island-hopping in southern Europe. Nowadays it’s the Balearic beat – the “chill out” sounds pioneered by Café del Mar and now inseparable from the everlasting sunset in these islands, the soothing soundtrack that plays in my mind as I venture through the laid-back archipelago.
Floating in the western Mediterranean about 120 miles from Barcelona, the Balearics comprise four sun-splashed main islands – Ibiza, Formentera, Mallorca, and Menorca. Geographic proximity and shared history have done little to keep the foursome from evolving along very different paths, not just from one another but also the rest of Spain.
Ibiza flourished as a bohemian haven during the fascist Franco era and a flower-power hub in the 1960s; nowadays it’s home to the world’s largest, wildest nightclubs. Formentera is old-school Med: whitewashed villages, old ladies in black with wide straw hats, and beaches with plenty of space to spread your towel. Mallorca is the big island, with heaps of history and plenty of castles, palaces, and forts, as well as a vast hinterland with vineyards and rugged mountains. Menorca was part of the British Empire for the better part of a century and still attracts a sophisticated Anglo crowd.
Legendary Allure
The one-hour flight from Madrid to Ibiza’s seafront airport dips low over the sandy Platja d’en Bossa, close enough to see the beach-bar revelers dancing on the outdoor tabletops. But rather than wade into the island’s raucous nightlife (one of the top ten “party scenes” of all time, according to one recent survey), I seek the serene side of Ibiza. Not just Café del Mar and its famously mellow tunes, but the clifftop walks, pine groves, and secluded coves that intermingle with the island’s effervescent side.
Hiring a speedboat in the busy harbor at Ibiza Town, I make my way to Cap Blanc and its namesake limestone cliffs. Just offshore stands the rocky isle of Es Vedrà, legendary home of the sirens who called out to Greek sailors in The Odyssey. Bobbing up and down in a gentle swell, I open my copy of the classic and revisit the passage.
In one of Homer’s more evocative scenes, Odysseus wants to experience the sirens’ enchanting song but doesn’t want to be lured to his death on the rocks. His solution is to have his men plug their ears with beeswax and tie their captain firmly to the mast as they approach the island. Hearing the creatures’ bewitching call, Odysseus begs to be set free. But the crew refuses to untie him until they’re safely out of earshot.
I have no such quandary. No alluring songs to seduce me, nothing but silence when the engine is cut. Tossing the anchor overboard, I dive into the translucent sea and float on my back, thinking about all the legends this rock has spawned. Homer wasn’t the only one captivated by Es Vedrà. Some say it’s a remnant of the lost city of Atlantis or the remains of an ancient quarry used to build the pyramids in Egypt. Another theory claims an unusual blend of metals and minerals endows the island with a magnetic field similar to the Bermuda Triangle and other supernatural vortexes. During the 1970s, local hippies swore the rock was a landing place for UFOs. That might have been the drugs talking – or perhaps Homer’s sirens were ancient alien visitors. Who am I to say?
Old-School Med
Formentera
A few days later I’m on the ferry to nearby Formentera for the next leg of my journey through the archipelago. Nothing could have prepared me for the contrast – in just about every respect – with its sister island. Rather than Ibiza’s lush rolling terrain, you get something much closer to desert: rocky plains, seaside dunes, and even prickly pear cactus.
At La Savina harbor, I rent a scooter and take off on my own, navigating with only the map in my guidebook. But with scant traffic, only one main road, and just 32 square miles of territory, there’s no way you’ll get lost on Formentera. I take a quick spin around Sant Francesc Xavier, the island’s tiny capital city (although calling the drowsy little place a “city” really is a stretch), where the town’s
fourteenth-century chapel catches my eye, before zipping along the island’s north shore in search of two very different goals.
Formentera’s beaches are the least crowded of any of the Balearics. And while the island does have its trendy strands (Platja de ses Illetes, for example), I crave a patch of sand where mine are the only footprints – if not for eternity, then certainly for the day. Reaching the fishing village of Es Caló, I park the moped and set off along a boardwalk leading to the shore. A sure sign of seclusion on any Mediterranean island is sunbathing au naturel. And skin is much in evidence at these beaches (there was even a guy fly-fishing in the nude). But the farther I trek, the less crowded it becomes, until I’m the only soul on the beach – if you don’t count the green lizards scrambling through the beachside underbrush.
By early afternoon I’m on the scooter again, zigzagging up a steep escarpment and across an arid plain that could easily be in Mexico. The road, and indeed the entire island, finally peters out at Punta de sa Ruda, a dramatic clifftop that drops into endless blue sea. The whitewashed Far de la Mola still keeps ships at bay, 150 years after the lighthouse was first built. Over to one side I find what I’m looking for: a monument honoring Jules Verne. The father of science fiction apparently found this spot just as eerily poignant as visitors do now, as the island’s windswept landscapes are said to have inspired at least two of his works: the fantasy space travel novel Off on a Comet and the aptly named Lighthouse at the End of the World.
Heart and Soul
As its name suggests, Mallorca really is the big island, the archipelago’s heart and soul of commerce, politics, and just about everything else (other than nightlife). It’s been that way for eons, a dominance recognized by the Romans, who dubbed the island Balearis Major. All the other islands combined would fit into Mallorca with room to spare, a landfall large enough to be its own country, with a history that spans nearly every Mediterranean epoch from the Phoenicians and Greeks to the Moors and the Inquisition.
All this history comes together in Palma de Mallorca, metropolis of both the island and the Balearics as a whole. With more than 400,000 residents, the city swirls around a meticulously preserved medieval core and has a hustle and bustle lacking elsewhere in the archipelago. You could linger for days or perhaps even weeks in Palma – craning your neck to study the Gothic details of La Seu cathedral, watching the street performers in the Plaça Major, or strolling beneath the leafy plane trees of the Passeig d’es Born, where Palmans promenade in the early evening.
The city flaunts a certain chic, gleaned from years as a refuge for the rich and royal. Grace Kelly and Prince Rainier III famously honeymooned here in the 1950s, and many others have followed. Princess Diana was a regular, and the Spanish royal family vacations here nearly every summer, ensconced in the Palacio de Marivent on the western outskirts of Palma. It’s not out of the ordinary to spot film stars flitting between shops along the hip Avinguda de Jaume or sporting icons relaxing on mega-yachts at Puerto Portals marina.
Leaving the high life (and the old cobblestoned streets) behind, I venture into Mallorca’s vast interior, still the breadbasket of the Balearics with its numerous farms, but also the best place to get back to nature. This is especially true in the Serra de Tramuntana along the island’s northern edge, a region of pine- and oak-studded valleys and wild-rosemary-covered slopes that reach nearly 5,000 feet into the almost always cloudless Balearic sky.
It takes the better part of a day to hike the Camí del Correu trail along an old post road that cuts straight through the mountains. Figuring it best to undertake the uphill portion first, I start out from Banyalbufar on the west coast, gradually rising through the stone-terraced fields that surround the town until I could turn and look back across the sea. Two hours into the hike, a large farmhouse comes into view: La Granja, an eighteenth-century finca that’s been turned into a fascinating folklore museum and garden café. Thoroughly tuckered from the climb, I take my time polishing off a heaping plate of pa amb oli (bread with olive oil) and several glasses of locally made vino tinto before trundling back to the coast.
British Balearic
Menorca
Neighboring Menorca is large enough to have its own airport with flights to several dozen European cities. But I can’t resist the notion that the best way to get from one island to another is by sea – in this case, another lumbering ferry that drops you off on the wharf at Mahón, at one of the largest harbors in the Mediterranean.
Northernmost of the Balearics, Menorca is slightly cooler and damper than its arid cousins. But what really sets it apart is its enduring Anglo-Saxon heritage. Coveting the island’s strategic location and aforementioned harbor, the redcoats seized Menorca in 1708 during the War of the Spanish Succession and held it for nearly a century. The island’s whitewashed villages and turquoise coves may look thoroughly Iberian, but its colonial past lingers in many nooks and crannies. Perhaps because of that legacy, British expatriates continue to favor Menorca over the other Balearics; there’s even a local club (Menorca Britannia) to promote “friendship and mutual understanding” between the island’s Spanish and Anglo residents.
Like so many Balearic towns, Mahón is best explored on foot, along narrow lanes that would challenge a donkey, let alone a car. But many of the British relics are farther afield, and for that you do need a vehicle. A mile down the waterfront is the village of Es Castell and its blood-red Georgian villas, where the Brits once danced the reel, ran up the Union Jack, and drank locally made gin in a place they dubbed Georgetown, after the British king. On the edge of town, scramble across the stout stone walls of Fort Marlborough, one of several bastions that once made this harbor the most fortified in Europe.
But the most intriguing find is Golden Farm on the north shore, an eighteenth-century villa where Horatio Nelson and Lady Hamilton played out part of their long-running and illicit romance. Set high on a bluff, the villa looks out over the harbor and Mahón, the view as dreamy today as it must have been 200-odd years ago. The admiral and his lady knew a thing or two about romance: If I were ever to steal away with a lover, this would be the place. A cozy house. A dazzling view. The perfect islands.
Expert Recommendations
Virtuoso Travel Advisors weigh in with their favorite Mediterranean-area escapes.
Madeira, Portugal, is a great place to honeymoon. Stay at Reid’s Palace: wonderful views, beautiful gardens, and superb food and service.
Plunging cliffs, glistening beaches, and breathtaking views. Corsica is excellent for all water sports, including kayaking and some of the best diving in the world.
Sími is a slightly mountainous Greek island dotted with blue-roofed white buildings, and small fishing boats fill its harbor. It can only be accessed by sea – if you don’t have your own boat, take a ferry from Rhodes.
Katina’s (30-22860/71280) is a restaruant at the sea’s edge in a quiet harbor on Santorini. After you handpick your fish, it’s cooked over charcoal, then served to you on oilcloth-covered tables outside. Be sure to accompany your meal with a good local wine.
Tucked away on Sardinia’s tony Costa Smeralda, Hotel Pitrizza is remarkable. Rent a car and drive around the island, which has an interesting combination of mountains and beaches.
Malta is my very favorite in the Mediterranean – 7,000 years of history on one small island.
Hire a boat for the day to take you to one of Capri’s grottos. The Blue Grotto is more famous, but the Green Grotto is not as touristy and you can swim right through it and have the boat pick you up on the other side.
Sicily has great accommodations, wonderful food, fabulous beaches, historic sites, and it’s not overly expensive. The people are Sicily’s best feature – they are hospitable, generous, and drive like maniacs.
Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast as a whole. Pick a cruise (such as a SeaDream voyage) that commences in Dubrovnik and calls at Korčula, Hvar, and Rovinj before ending in Venice.
The Best of the Balearics
Stylish stays in the Spanish isles.
Getting There: Iberia offers daily nonstop service to Madrid, while Lufthansa offers nonstop service from Palma de Mallorca to Frankfurt, Munich, Stuttgart, Hamburg, and Düsseldorf.
GO: Highlights of Valesa Cultural Services’ four-day Mallorca itinerary include a concert in King Sancho’s palace in the village of Valldemossa, a visit to the monastery and terraced gardens where Frédéric Chopin and George Sand wintered in the 1800s, a stroll through Palma’s old quarter, and more. Departure: Any day through 2010; from $1,764, including breakfast and a guide for three days.
STAY: Nestled into the foothills of Sierra de Tramuntana on Mallorca and clad in rugged stone, quaint, 59-room La Residencia charms with lush gardens and gorgeous views. Doubles from $467, including a welcome bottle of cava, breakfast, and a complimentary face and scalp massage for two.
Don’t miss the huge Arabella Spa – one of Europe’s largest – at the secluded 133-room St. Regis Mardavall Mallorca Resort. Doubles from $792, including breakfast and a one-hour massage for two.